


hold gently and let go

by shatou



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Could’ve been a meta but i wrote a fic instead, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance intended but it ended up gen, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28163196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatou/pseuds/shatou
Summary: A troubled Anakin comes to Obi-Wan to discuss attachments.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 25
Kudos: 188
Collections: SW Especially Satisfying Stories





	hold gently and let go

"Master, I want to talk to you."

It's a wintry night without stars on Coruscant, little more than twenty four standard hours since their return from their last mission. Obi-Wan looks up from his datapad, surprised to see Anakin's face shadowed with graveness, his eyes downcast, his hand fiddling with the ends of his braid.

"Of course, Anakin," he says, swiftly moving his tea mug aside and pats the spot beside him. His Padawan hesitates in a way that he hasn't seen in upward ten years. Anakin is on edge and his nervousness spills over the shields of his psyche like he is but a young boy again. "What is it?"

"You told me…" Anakin begins, wrapping and unwrapping the golden cord of his braid around his finger. His cheeks are flushed darker than dusk. "...that attachment is bad and must be avoided.”

The statement is innocuous enough, but the way Anakin says it, shifty and full of nerves, perhaps heralds something leaden weighing down on his heart. Obi-Wan straightens himself up, his full attention on his Padawan, both alert and concerned. “That I did.” Admittedly, Anakin phrased it in a quite reductive manner, but the general idea is there. Obi-Wan tilts his head to Anakin in an almost pleading look, lowering his mental shields to reassure the boy of his acceptance, and Anakin finally takes the seat beside him - though with a clear gap between their thighs, small but noticeable. He debates what he is to ask next; Anakin doesn’t take well to an interrogative tone. He’s afraid the boy would recoil into his shell as soon as he feels like he is being put on the spot. Perhaps it would be better if he just gets Anakin to speak his mind. “And I assume you have something to tell me about it.”

Anakin wets his lips, throat bobbing in a quiet gulp. “I don’t understand why, Master.”

Obi-Wan has to pause for a moment. Is it true that he has committed such a flagrant oversight? That all this time he still hasn’t driven home this one lesson and has left Anakin under the impression that he is to follow a rule without understanding the core tenets behind it? He holds back a sigh, lest his Padawan thinks he is disappointed - he is, but at himself rather than at the boy. He smiles instead, setting a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder.

“We Force-users, quite truthfully, possess an unsettling amount of power. Perhaps the particularity of your abilities might be lost to you when you have lived surrounded by other Force-sensitives for years, but you must never forget that we can do things that non-Force-users cannot.”

“I know that,” Anakin says quickly. “What does that have to do with attachment, though?”

“Patience now, Padawan. When you have power over others, it would be easy for you to get what you want. On the other hand, when you are attached to something, you would always want to have it, to keep it - by definition. So, there is a non-negligible chance you might misuse your power in order to keep the object of your desire.”

“You keep saying  _ something _ and  _ object _ , but… younglings are supposed to be brought into the Temple when they are infants just because of the—the ‘no attachment’ rule.” Anakin pauses, and in the line of his pursed lips there is a slight tremble - like he is holding back something too close to his heart. “I know by that you mean people as well, Master, but people are different, aren’t they?”

“You are correct, Anakin. People are different in a way that makes attachments to them even more risky, and I know that you know this. Some objects could be replaced, but every person is singular. You can hardly replace a person lost.” Obi-Wan turns his eyes to the middle distance, trying to quell the sentimentality cropping up in his chest. What sort of hypocrite would he be, lecturing Anakin about the dangers of attachment while his heart aches so fiercely for somebody who has been laid to rest ten years ago already? He clears his voice. “Once you are attached, to anything at all, but especially to a person, there is no saying what you would do for them, or to them. It is there where danger lies.”

“But what if you can’t help it?” Worry flashes in Anakin’s quick glance before he looks down again. “What if you can’t— What if the attachment just… just happens?”

“Feeling attached to something does not make you a bad person,” Obi-Wan is quick to reassure. “It happens. We are sentients, with emotions; it’s inevitable, for everyone.” Anakin levels him with a skeptical look, and Obi-Wan chuckles. “Trust me, Padawan mine, everyone  _ including _ me. Attachments, or the beginning thereof, aren’t bad in and of themselves; it rather hinges on how you deal with them. Acknowledging your feelings is already half the battle, I like to believe. The other half is to be mindful of it, and not let it control you.”

“The other half sounds like a very big half,” Anakin says, smiling faintly. It always warms Obi-Wan’s heart to see his smile; oh the lengths he would go to, to preserve and protect it. And perhaps that is reason for concern, he realizes with a pang - matter to reflect on, for how egregiously close to attachment it is.

“Well, it is a big battle.” Obi-Wan squeezes his shoulder. “That is why you must not sequester yourself away when you feel troubled. You are not alone, Anakin, and you needn’t feel so.”

“I know I’m not. I just...” Anakin’s hand comes up, but he pauses before his fingertips even graze Obi-Wan’s knuckles. He lets his hand drop back into his lap with a sigh, to which Obi-Wan furrows his brows.

“Are you perhaps feeling troubled right this moment?”

His Padawan finally meets his gaze and holds it. The look of despair in his eyes is of a staggering intensity, as is the tremor in his lip corners. He has gotten past nervousness, past even fear at this point; he looks mortified, such that Obi-Wan feels the need to wrap his reassurance around Anakin’s signature. He doesn’t say more, doesn’t press, nor does he look away, as the boy looks his fill, seemingly searching for something in his own expression. 

Finally, Anakin nods. “I’m… attached, I—” He blinks rapidly, breathes rapidly, and Obi-Wan can practically see his thoughts flitting by rapidly as well, a million light years a minute. He opens his mouth with the intention to soothe Anakin - that yes, it is alright, and that he would not blame Anakin for it, would help him sort out his feelings and meditate it away - but before he could, Anakin takes a deep breath and says:

"I love you, Master.”

The entire universe hitches to a halt. Obi-Wan stares at his apprentice, at Anakin, the boy he has been teaching, the man in the making, the Jedi Knight-to-be. This bright-eyed, open-hearted young man, lips parted and lashes trembling… Truly? Obi-Wan's face warms up dizzyingly fast, while his thoughts scramble towards the alternatives - love as that of family, love as in adoration, admiration, aspiration, love as in that of an apprentice to his mentor. Any kind of love could turn into attachment, and he has always known how strongly Anakin feels.

He must have been dumbstruck for a long moment, because Anakin breaks eye contact, dejection heavy on his drooping shoulders. His braid swings lightly as his head hangs. His eyelashes are so long, Obi-Wan distantly thinks, and instantly feels disgusted at himself for still having the levity of mind to remark on such things while Anakin's shame burns pitifully through their training bond.

“I love you," Anakin repeats, his voice less hoarse and more hollow this time, "and I don't know how to make it go away."

Obi-Wan's heart seizes. He cradles the side of Anakin's neck, just below his jaw. "Anakin, please look at me."

Anakin doesn't. His posture is slumped yet tense, his hands balled into fists in his lap, so heartrendingly innocent in his admission, his confession, his capitulation.

"I'm not angry at you, if that is what you're thinking," Obi-Wan adds quietly. How could he ever?

"You will be," Anakin says sullenly. "I—I don't think I even want it to go away. I didn't even try; I couldn't." His voice wavers with the watery note of a plea, but also an ember of darkness. "I don't  _ want _ to stop loving you."

"You don't have to." The raw words slip before Obi-Wan could dress them up and tone them down. He takes Anakin's hands. "All you need to do is not to hold on too tightly to what you have. Hold it like you would hold water. If you clutch—" he brushes his thumb over Anakin's curled fingers "—the water will drain from the cracks of your fingers. But if you gently—" here he pries Anakin's hand open, as slow and careful as his words "—cup your hands, like this, the water will stay. Hold gently and let go of your fears. Does that make sense...?"

It's a rather simple parable, and Obi-Wan has to wonder with no little nervousness whether Anakin, eighteen years of age, is already too old for this sort of analogy. The last thing he would want is to seem condescending in a moment like this.

Anakin doesn't seem upset by it; or at least, he doesn't seem any more upset than he already is. He's silent, but his ears are bright red. His fingertips tremble a little. Then, as though a debate has concluded in his mind, he looks up and promptly slides his hands away from Obi-Wan's loose grip.

And raises them to cup Obi-Wan's face instead.

"What do I have, Master?" Anakin purses his lips, breath bated. His hands are gentle, very gentle, like he's holding water, holding ice, holding glass; but tremulous, as though he is struggling to follow the lesson only just now imparted on him. Obi-Wan watches him, the way fear and determination battle in his gaze, the way his brows furrow in solemnity despite the great flush across his cheeks. Anakin is still so afraid, but he is trying. Perhaps for one not to fear loss, one must first be allowed to  _ have _ . Security, then serenity.

Obi-Wan covers Anakin's hands with his own. "Me," he says, knowing in his heart of throbbing hearts that he himself is not so selfless. That the only difference between them is that Anakin is brave enough to say the words first. "You have me, dear one."


End file.
